


unexpected conversations

by AmberRunnel



Series: darker days of the dream smp [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Contains swearing - Freeform, Schlatt being kind for once, Tubbo's gonna start questioning his allegiances after this conversation, everyone treats Tubbo badly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27871473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberRunnel/pseuds/AmberRunnel
Summary: Tubbo finds Schlatt drunk and disoriented in the White House and they have a very unexpected conversation.
Relationships: Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo
Series: darker days of the dream smp [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039249
Comments: 5
Kudos: 225





	unexpected conversations

Manberg was empty as Tubbo climbed up to the podium, somewhat relaxed in the tranquility of a light wind and birds chirping in the background. The sun was dimmed by a thin covering of clouds, just perfectly so that Tubbo could look out over his nation without being blinded. 

_ It’s so much more peaceful without Tommy and Wilbur,  _ he thought, then immediately felt awful about it. He rubbed his nose and sat down, getting to work repairing the podium after the damage it had taken when a fight had broken out between George and Sapnap, over a goddamn horse of all things.

He whistled to himself as he worked, comforted by the tap of his axe on wood when— 

“FUCK!”

Tubbo turned rather curiously towards the White House. Schlatt’s voice was all too recognizable, even at a distance.  _ I should probably check to make sure he’s still alive.  _

When he eased open the front doors, it became quite clear that the bottom level was empty. Schlatt was in his quarters, and all was silent when Tubbo knocked on his door.

“What?” Schlatt snapped. ‘I told you to fucking get out, Quackity—”

Tubbo eased the door open a bit to peer through the crack. “It’s me.”

No answer. 

Tubbo sighed and opened the door.

Schlatt’s place was in complete and utter disarray. Half-empty bottles and loose papers were strewn all over the floor and furniture, weapons and tools and building materials spilling out of storage chests, not a single book was left in the bookshelves lining the wall, and Schlatt was leaning half-conscious against the wall, a broken bottle in his hand and the bleeding cuts to show for it. 

The only thing still left in its place was the armor Tubbo had made for Schlatt, still resting perfectly on the stand by the door. Even though it was probably because Schlatt loathed wearing armor, Tubbo appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. 

“You okay?” Tubbo asked, inching into the room and crouching by Schlatt. The only reply was a half-hearted curse under his breath. Still, Schlatt didn’t resist when Tubbo pried the broken bottle out of his hands. 

Tubbo rubbed his forehead and dug through Schlatt’s enderchest, pulling out one of the spare potions Tubbo always kept as a backup. He handed it to Schlatt, who looked it over and slurred, “Are you tryna poison me now, Tubbo?”

“Yes, Schlatt,” Tubbo said patiently. “I’m trying to poison you with a healing potion. Just drink it, man.”

Schlatt grumbled under his breath and did. 

It took a few seconds, but his eyes cleared and he sat up straighter. When Tubbo started bandaging his hand, he sighed and said heavily, “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Why were you drinking at four in the afternoon?”

“Flatty patty’s getting on my nerves again—”

“—you know he doesn’t like that name—”

“—I know, I just don’t give a fuck.”

When Tubbo didn’t argue, Schlatt looked at him dead in the eyes with an almost confused look. “Why are you helping me?”

“I’m your right hand man, right?” Tubbo said cheerfully.

“You fucking hate me.”

Tubbo drew back in surprise, giving the still-disoriented president a baffled look. “I don’t hate you. I don’t hate anyone.”

“You don’t—right,” Schlatt chortled. “Listen to this guy, he doesn’t hate anyone. Of course that's your answer.” He took the bandages from Tubbo’s hand, shaking his head as he stood up.

The silence stretched a little as Schlatt looked at the mess. Tubbo offered, “I can help you clean up if you want?”

Schlatt shook his head in resignation. “No, no.” Then, after a pause: “You’re such a great kid, Tubbo. You know that?”

Those words took quite a bit of time to register in Tubbo’s brain, because they didn’t make sense coming from Schlatt. Tubbo was never on the receiving end of the cruel words Quackity was sometimes subjected to, but  _ kindness?  _ Genuine words were rare from someone like Schlatt.

“Thanks?” Tubbo stammered.

“I mean it.”

“Okay.”

“Listen, Tubbo,” Schlatt started, making for the door as Tubbo followed. They stopped at the glass window overlooking Manberg, and Schlatt continued: “Wilbur and Tommy really treat you like shit. I do too, really, even though I shouldn’t.”

Tubbo kept his eyes fixed on the floor so he wouldn’t have to look at Manberg. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying too many people you answer to take you for granted.”

Tubbo shuffled his feet. “Well, I don’t really answer to anyone but you.”

Schlatt chuckled, shaking his head. “Sure, Tubbo, sure. Not like you spend hours collecting resources for your traitor friends in that goddamn ravine, and I bet they don’t even thank you for it.”

Tubbo stilled like a statue, heart dropping in his chest. “What?” Schlatt wasn't wrong, but he shouldn't know about Pogtopia at all. Never mind that Tubbo was helping them.

“Yeah, I know about your little meet-ups,” Schlatt mocked. “I’m not a fucking moron. You really think I believed that tunnel of yours led to a pillager outpost or whatever shit excuse you gave me for it?” He laughed, carelessly, and Tubbo’s skin crawled.

Tubbo took a half-step back, but Schlatt grabbed his arm before he could make a break for it. “Look at this place,” he demanded, pulling Tubbo to the window. “Look at what it is now and tell me things aren’t better.”

Heart in his throat, Tubbo looked at their nation—and said nothing.

“That’s thanks to  _ you, _ ” Schlatt said. He hadn’t let go of Tubbo’s arm, but his grip was more insisting rather than imprisoning. “You organized all of this. You built it.”

“Yeah,” Tubbo agreed, voice barely above a whisper. 

Schlatt sighed and released him, muttering under his breath as he studied Manberg. Tubbo didn’t dare move, not until Schlatt turned and said, “Well? Are you just going to stand there?”

“You’re just...letting me go?” Tubbo asked in astonishment. 

“Of course,” Schlatt admonished. “What? You think I’m just gonna execute you or some shit because you’re too fucking loyal to your friends?”

“You always knew.”

“You’re a shit liar, Tubbo.” Schlatt shook his head. “If you want, you can walk away from Manberg and not come back. I won’t stop you. But one day, one day, you’ll have to pick a side—and I want you to think about what exactly Wilbur and Tommy have done for you when you do.”

Tubbo nodded and stepped back, leaving Schlatt to keep bird watching from his window. He barely made a sound when he walked, heart beating too loudly, half expecting Schlatt to shoot a crossbow bolt through his back and laugh as if just the thought of letting Tubbo go was unthinkable, a joke to let him think he’d gotten away— 

He was about to make it out of the room when Schlatt said, “Tubbo?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”


End file.
